Dutch Justice, Always
by ThisClosetoPerfect
Summary: BellaxJacob, OC, sort-of AU. A normal girl in a normal world, Janisa must face a challenge beyond belief. The end of the world is coming, and only with the help of the Black family can she defeat the enemy of mankind. Romance.
1. Everything is Broken

**Dutch Justice, Always**

**Chapter 1: Everything is Broken**

**AN: I really like to write, this is my first fanfiction. Please review! It has an OC but all the other characters are in it so don't worry about that. There is Bella/Jacob.**

Hello. I am Bella's friend, and my name is Janisa Vampir Jackie De'Loreal. Anyway, today I am hiding in my office closet because Bella called me on the phone before.

"Hello Janisa De'Loreal" she told me slowly.

"Hello Bella Black" I greeted (cause she divorced Edward and now shes remarried)

"You must hide, Janisa" she whispered.

"Why?" I inquired curiously.

"They are coming!" she warned "Watch out!"

"Who is it, who is coming?" I questioned with my brows raised.

"It is…" She paused, severely. Then she warned "…THE VOLTURI!"

I did not know what to do. I was sitting in my office then and I was doing paperwork (I work for an office) and so I looked over and so I saw the closet which was on the wall.

"Janisa De'Loreal, you must hide in that closet," Bella Black engined and then I went inside with hastiness.

Now it was later, and the lights were all off and in the sky and so I could not see, but there were slits in the door of the closet and I look out. All of a sudden…

I heard a tone voice say "Where is she?" and it was coming from outside my office.

Edward (he is in the closet with me) told me to "shhh stay quiet" and put his hand over my mouth so I could not yelp. The ground quivered with fear. The air was hostile and it was tricky breathing through the pleasantly cold hand.

Then, the door slides wide and open and in walked…

THE VOLTURI!

"Oh, I think… this is her office… " she snarked.

**AN: Sorry for the cliffhanger but you will see what happens in the next chapter. Review please!**


	2. Citrus Heaven

**Chapter 2: Everything is Broken**

Later on that day, I was talking with Leah Clearwater. She spoke softly and smoothly, like a wolf.

"Hello Leah Clearwater. That was a close call with the Volturi, would you agree?" I inquired.

"Yes Janisa De'Loreal."Leah Clearwater responded.

_Flashback:_

The Volturi looked around my office (where I work). She had a heated face, but cool to the touch, I think. I've never tried. Her lips moved swiftly to smile. But then she crooned: "I thought this was… her office… Janisa De'Loreal's?"

The zombie with the red cloak croaked "I want to _die_."

"Is this information… that you gave to me… is it? Is it flawed? Yes… yes it is." The Volturi said; her hair bun was hanging underneath the hood (that was attached to her cloak at the neck).

The zombie with the red cloak chanted angrily that "I do not know why it is not true."

"This is no good" she said. "We must check the closet… it is on that wall over there… see?"

She pointed with both hands, her fingers were long. She was wearing a black cloak, with a hood; her face was detached. The zombie with the red cloak was wearing no hood because he looked Catholic. He had one of the round things on his neck that priests have, like in that Dan Brown movie.

They walked up to the closet. They approach the closet, closer, closer, and then…

THEY OPEN THE CLOSET.

I was ready to shout but then Edward said (he was in the closet like before) that "no stay quiet" in a mental voice. We turned invisible using his Powers.

The Volturi looked into my office closet with zeal on her face. This is where I keep extra office supplies, I thought.

"I see something…" the Volturi said in a drone voice. Then she reached in… and grabbed a staple remover.

"This will come handily for torture… when I find her…" she articulated "… Janisa De'Loreal."

**AN: To be continued… please review, Lord bless you and all his creatures.**


	3. Awesome God

**Chapter 3: Awesome God**

AN: Okay so I got a really mean comment last time and I wanted to let you know that I could hold my own. I pulled all the stop levers and this time, I can tell you this writing is truly good. I prayed to find my inner peace, and He led me here. This is to be a flashback chapter so that you know why Volturi came to the office.

I filed the papers one by one into their dark, musty sarcophagi (desk).

_This I must file in Copyright Forms, _I thought cunningly, my neck itching ominously: _It has had its Doom decided. It is beyond my help. _

The form in my hand had on it bold red letters smacked on the top as though by some whore's sloppy kiss: _Received. _By whom? By us? A mystery never tells its stories.

I read further, my eyes scanning the page on a quest for forbidden knowledge. I was a simple desk secretary. I did not sit in the corner office. I was no freelance photographer. The paper would have been protected from my vision, if the Upperlies knew how I was curious at the next station.

_I am here to inform you that we have filed a patent, _it read, _for Vampire Reduction Devices (VRD). They will be ready for production. _

_Soon. _

_And when the VRDs are ready, as they are, Volturi will gain a supplier whose deep wiles it cannot fathom._

_Soon._

_Production R & D Team, __EA Bethesda Weapons Manufacturing_

I did not know who to tell, so I kept my mouth shut like a deep sea clam. I had no deep throat, I could not pretend my station was 'informant.'

I got up from the chair (it was in my office, where I work, next to my desk) and strolled over to the potted plant. It stood proudly on the ledge of the window that looked out into a brick wall. It was an Asparagus Fern. I had genetically engineered it. Its unnatural flowers glistened, the color of burmese gold and chartreuse, with brown mustard stripes. I grabbed its hair in my sensitive fingers and threw it to the floor.

That was when the call came. Edward walked into the office and took a place in my closet.

_Ring, ring, ring._

Bella was calling me, forever.

AN: So you guys know what happens next and I'll come back and fill in the future detes when I have the chance


	4. We All Just want to be BIG Rockstars

**Chapter 4: We All Just Want to be BIG Rockstars**

The clock ticked menacingly. The Volturi looked at where Edward and I sat invisibly.

The Volturi's friend, Steve Cunningham, who was with her, punched the zombie."You lied to us, you bastard, you said that this was her office… Janisa De'Loreal's!" he said to the Catholic zombie in the red cloak. They eyed each other.

The Volturi's cunning lips smiled, her face detached. She had blank eyes with the color blue in them, a pure blue, like a sky, but not a sky on a cloudy day. A blue sky. She smelled like blood, although I wouldn't have told it to her face: she looked far too nonplussed, and her mood was hanging dangerously on the tip of a knife. "Shhhh…"

They were quiet.

Edward said in a mental voice that "we don't have to worry," he said, "because they can't see us."

"But can they _smell_ us?" I transmuted back.

Edward started to said that "I hadn't thought of that," but it was too late. His heart lay bleeding on the floor. The large staple remover that Volturi had borrowed from me earlier was dripping blood with reckless abandon. I used it to remove staples.

I slowly realized immediately that I was visible. "Shit" said I, "this is not good. I did not know you could move so quickly."

Volturi smiled, her blank eyes dully sitting on her pasty face, lips full and plump. Edward had been sitting up still but now he slumped over, his face dead, though I couldn't tell for sure. A gaping hole lay facedown on his chest, where his heart had been. "EDWARD!"

Volturi took me in both her arms. She growled. Then she fell, in slow motion. I could sense the time passing. A poison dart? No, it was not that, I could see no wounds.

Suddenly Leah Clearwater was there. She was the one who had growled! She said in a growling tone that "Janisa De'Loreal! Watch out! Come with me." She was carrying in her wolflike hands a megaphone with lightning patterns scratched down the side in sap-yellow paint. Its face part (where the sound comes from) looked just like the flowers on my genetically engineered Asparagus Fern. The brown mustard stripes were a nice touch.

I ran to her side and buried my face in her bosom. She patted my head. "But what of the zombie and Steve Cunningham, Leah Clearwater?" I said in an articulated voice, my tears drowning my prominent semi-symmetrical cheekbones. "I am so sad about Edward" I sobbed also.

"Do not worry, the Vampire Reduction Devices have a splash effect. The zombie is undead, and he has been affected very strongly. However, Steve is alive, but he ran away. I think he means to talk to the council Volturi" Leah Clearwater nodded sagely.

"WAIT!" I screamed with chutzpah. I looked on my desk (in my office) and there was no paper. The copyright form had been taken.

"They have the form" I shook with fury.

Clearwater screamed at the top of her lungs. The window shook angrily, then broke itself. Then the potted plant, I noticed, had been taken as well. "We are at a loss" I mentioned, and sat down upon my desk chair, weeping freely over the losses we had endured in our fight.

**AN: Please review! I love all of you who read my story and I hope to share more with the world. Remember we have an obligation to each other to be whom we can be, as He has told us!**


	5. Genghis Christ, Superstar!

**Chapter 5: Genghis Christ, Superstar!**

"Down with the system!" The lady in the red dress shook her fist, her mouth forming an angry O-shaped cavern.

"Do you not hear? Do you not see?" He shook he head graciously, the head Volturi. He pointed his eyes towards Steve Cunningham, whose face lay in shadow underneath a jacket hood. "This man has brought us information without which we may not have been notified!"

"Foolish dunces! I cannot care about this crap!" The other lady swooned majestically, her royal blood in her veins. Her name was Georgia Roberta Swenson. She left the scene.

The head Volturi shook his head menacingly, then joked, "It looks like we have one less guest to take our foodstuffs!"

The crowd laughed, and they became sympathetic. His joke brought him down-to-earth, and he was one with the crowd. It was like what the guy said in the Gladiator: Win the crowd, and you win Rome.

Steve Cunningham brought forth his face. It was a traced face, as though by pencil. His lips formed a smooth lip shape underneath the bridge of his nose. His eyes darted back and forth, always moving, except for when they were focused on something. His cheeks formed ambient yellow planes underneath each of his almond eyes.

It began to rain. Small drops first, then large drops, and then larger drops. The sky was the dark grey of Hungarian basalt. The rain was ominous.

"My ancestors on my mother's father's side" said he, " were Vampires from the People's Republic. North Korea."

He smiled to hear the audience gasp. His lips twisted upward into a cunning grimace.

"Over there, we were called Kings, we were called Supreme Leaders. But I was chased away from my homelands by a Dutch foreign ambassador whose name I will not mention here" the audience was raptured, and he continues that "I was the second cousin's son of Kim Jong-il. I am… Steve Jong-il."

The crowd was shocked. The head Volturi hit the hammer on his podium bench. "Quiet!"

"When I came here, I took a new name. My new name is… Steve Cunningham."

The gasps of the audience echoed out audibly. A woman feinted, then fell. The legends were too much of a reveal. "Who was the Dutch foreign ambassador?"

"Genghis Van Helsing."

The silence, was imminent.

**To be continued...**


	6. Jesus, Take the Squeal!

**Chapter 6: Jesus, Take the Squeal!**

"Quick, we must go," she said.

I followed Leah Clearwater through the dank hallways underneath the office floor. They connected us with the other office rooms and buildings, but were too dank to be used with regularity. Instead, cobwebs dominated the scene, full of mystery and foreboding. The little spider faces looked out at us as we passed. A rubber rat lay discarded on the floor, an artifact from a different age.

"Leah Clearwater," I whispered insistently, but it was too late.

_SQUEAK! _the rat squealed.

Leah stumbled back into the wall, her face a wolf-mask of angry fury. The tunnel smelled like the taste of copper.

"This wouldn't have happened if you had listened to me!" I angered. "Listen!" said I, "where are we going? I have the right to know!" I covered my nose with my long sweater sleeve.

My other hand was a clamp on her shawl, holding her in place- anger still lay reminiscent on her facial structure, like a tempest fading into her face. So much anger. A cold anger, thousands of years in the making.

"Why should I tell you?" Leah Clearwater haughtily asked, her pride constricting around her throat.

"Because! Without me, you would not have a Vampire Reduction Device! Don't you see?" I held my hands up in despair, grasping at the air, pulling the heavens down to earth as a sad and desperate plea to God, "I genetically engineered the Asparagus Fern! It was I! It was I who was the one who made it, in my home laboratory named The Better Science Bureau! I was always a great scientist, and now my creation has been misused!" The hall was cold and desolate. You could only hear our breaths and our voices. Leah Clearwater breathed heavily, like a wolf.

"Have you more to say for thine self?" Leah Clearwater insisted wolfishly. She scratched her eyebrow with her paw-like foot. Her wolf flexibility would intimidate me, she thought.

"Listen, werewoman, I have no patience for tomfools! You must tell me our common destination, or I shall not move _one_ quarter inch, or more!" I looked around. The cement floor lay perpendicular to the likewise walls, smooth right angles held in place by a common desire- the hope for a better world. This building had been built many years hence, and still the free love of the 1960s poured through, even though it was at least 2032 by now. Though the paint had chipped, you could still see some flowers and rainbows decorating the abode.

"I shall inform you of thine request." Leah Clearwater then laid out the plans, her canine words flowing like a waterfall into my eustachian tubing. She spoke of a Grand Fair at the Long Beach Convention Center, near the old Pike. The Fair was conventional: a Vampire Convention, complete with panel speakers and rooms for the panel speakers. The cost was fifty dollars, "a hefty fee," Leah Clearwater explained, "because Vampires are often Dukes and Counts, which are very expensive positions."

"We go there," Leah Clearwater barked, "to defeat the Vampires together. And I know just the man to help me do it."

From deep in his shadow lair, the face of a strange Mongolian came prowling. His brow curved downward into his eyes, which were situated on either side of his nose and were rather far apart. His left side face, which would be on my right, was deeply scarred and the shadows perpetuated his aesthetic inequities. His nose lay mushed up and smashed on his face, right above his lips. He had comparatively no upper lip and a pouting, smooth lower lip which glistened with sweat and other perspirations. His eyes were huge and grey, like his skin. His lower lip trembled, then opened like the maw of some granitic beast.

Leah Clearwater nodded her snout at him. Then, she opened her anthropomorphized muzzle and howled, "Janisa De'Loreal, meet this man. Genghis Van Helsing... meet Janisa De'Loreal."

"Pleased to meet you," said he.

"Enchanted," I said, and curtsied.

**To be continued...**

**AN: Guys leave reviews! I want to know how I can better myself, lol! Cause soon I won't be ThisClosetoPerfect, haha, jk. Only Jesus is. **


	7. Faith and Footprints in the Rain

**Chapter 7: Faith and Footprints in the Rain**

**AN: This part is very intense so hold on for your seats. **

There wasn't time. No time at all. It was as though the hourglass of time had dissolved into ten thousand slices of paper, and burnt in a fire lit by a match and fueled by anger.

Janisa De'Loreal ran forward, my shoe laces double-knotted, my brow furrowed as I approached the scene. The Long Beach Convention center was the portrait of a convention center, and a masterwork of structural engineering. Many panes of glass sat in windows; windows that stretched in various directions- up, down, warped back into the roof. Palm trees lined a platform which was raised, and there were many people on said platform and many who did not. The platform remained standing and they looked down upon the crowd.

Janisa De'Loreal could not bear the anxiety. Even hearing the heavy pants from Leah Clearwater could not relax her. She was nervous. Sweat came streaming down from her forehead glands, and her side ached in agony.

"Remember, Genghis Van Helsing will meet us there, so do not tarry!"

Suddenly there was a loud speaking noise from the raised platform of the convention center, and underneath the platform was a parking structure. The Head Volturi looked out upon the crowd.

"Hear hear!" said the Head Volturi, "We have news which we have not yet heard! All Vampires: listen to me! Apparently, Nemesis Jones has began to produce Vampire Reduction Devices!"

The crowd stood horrified, its face a mask of terror.

"He has used his Lichen front company, EA Bethesda, to funnel funds into dangerous genetic research. Now, a weapon with massive destructive abilities has been unleashed upon the world! Science has abominated us all once again! Vampires were ever-peaceful creatures, one with the earth as we wish to be with God..."

"Have we no recourse?" Harold T. Gloat stated, standing in the crowd. The Venetian Vampire wore his trademarked trench coat from the finest French artists, a black beanie with red lettering, and bug-like reflective glasses. His fake mustache obscured his sparkle.

"Down with the system," yelled an angry woman, one fist in the air! She secretly used hand signals to with her other hand alert the security. They rushed through the crowd, toward Janisa De'Loreal.

_Pffft...__we__must__call__off__the__attack...__pffft...__over._said the jacket collar radio connected to Genghis Van Helsing.

"Let us at least observe this meeting first, Leah Clearwater!" Janisa De'Loreal pleaded, both not having noticed the security.

They watched observantly.

"Do you not hear? Do you not see?" The head Volturi shook graciously. He pointed his eyes towards Steve Cunningham, whose face lay in shadow underneath a jacket hood, just as it did last time. "This man has brought us information without which we may not have been notified!"

"Foolish dunces! I cannot care about this crap!" Georgia Roberta Swenson swooned, leaving.

"It looks like we have one less guest to take our foodstuffs!"

The crowd laughed! They were going crazy! It was like when Bo Burnham does a performance near your school and you get to go to it. The sun shined brightly, and the brightness of it was stupendous. Glitter lay scatter upon all the faces in the crowd.

Steve Cunningham brought forth his face and sparkles filled the arena. His face was obscured from underneath the platform angle, but it was still there. Still as ominous. Janisa De'Loreal shivered sympathetically, for to look upon that face was like looking upon the face of a demon, knew she.

The sky began to rain earnestly. Many drops of liquid water fell down in blurred shapes. The world was like a gothic novel and the rain fell more.

"My ancestors on my mother's father's side were Vampires from the People's Republic of North Korea. Over there, we were called Kings, we were called Supreme Leaders. But I was chased away from my homelands by a Dutch foreign ambassador-"

Suddenly with no warning, the security man hit them to the floor.

"I am York Sebastian Squire," said York Squire, "And you are under arrested by the Volturi Security Team."

_Noooooo!_ thought Janisa De'Loreal with gusto.

Suddenly Genghis Van Helsing slammed his fist into the face of York Squire. A multitude of blood lay splattered upon the ground.

"Do not worry, he is not to threaten us," said Genghis Van Helsing, "For the wages of sin is death."

"What was he? He does not sparkle," intoned Janisa De'Loreal.

"He was no Vampire. He is but a wraith, sacred guardians of the Vampires. They can emerge into sunlight without sparkling, which gived them an edge likewise."

Meanwhile, "...whose name I will not mention here. I was the second cousin's son of Kim Jong-il. I am… Steve Jong-il."

"Quick, we must leave!" said Genghis Van Helsing.

"When I came here, I took a new name. My new name is… Steve Cunningham."

"It was HIM!" she screamed, following Genghis Van Helsing.

"Who was the Dutch foreign ambassador?" said the crowd eagerly.

"Genghis Van Helsing."

The silence blanketed the scene as Genghis Van Helsing and Janisa De'Loreal left under cover of dark.

"Will we be able to defeat them without Leah Clearwated?" I questioned.

"Who knows? But what do I know is: a poet once said that the things justify the means," and he nodded wisely.

"It is just beginning."


	8. Vampire Opportunity Cost

**Chapter 8: Vampire Opportunity Cost**

**AN: Hey guys, I accidented all of the chapters trying to edit something but they're back now so sorry guys. **

**AN2: Okay here's where Bella comes in, so get ready. Also, disclaimer that I don't own the lyrics to the song whose lyrics I've included for style purposes. Be warned cause this chapter is a little sexy, lol.**

_I'm giving you my heart, and all that is within.  
><em>

Bella and Jacob sat in Jacob's black Rolls-Benz, a merged car company. The car had felt seats that squished when you sat on them, and a removable topping, which in this instance was not present. Jacob and Bella looked up at the stars and listened to praise music. Beautiful melodious harmonies lay barren on the airwaves, floating up and carrying with them love and faith, past the starships and the gigasatellites which characterized the outer frontier by at least as early as 2032.

_I lay it all down for the sake of you my King._

The gigasatellites could be seen high up in the mountains, like planes they were so large and reflective. Bella and Jacob sat in Jacob's expensive Rolls-Benz observing this visually, the trees tall and wise in the background of the scene.

I_'m giving you my dreams, I'm laying down my rights._

The sign read "Lover's Outlook" on the otherwise blank slate. It lay on the forefront of the scene which looked down upon the large city whose buildings were tall unto the Sun, though not quite as that was a hyperbole device. Large and glimmering these were, full of potentiality but soulless as makeup, like that Lady Gaga concert on the VMAs.

_I'm giving up my pride for the promise of new life._

"Do you believe in the power of the human soul?" Jacob questioned tenderly, his face staring at me seductively. The license plate said, "3Bella4Eva."

Janisa De'Loreal lay on her reclined chair smoking a cig. She lazily draped her hand out of the car side, and blew out some steam. The car door was made of vintage steel. "I'm not sure," stated she, and dropped her voice an octave, so that it was only a whisper, "But I feel somewhere, deep inside my chest, that it is true. That we have some power outside our physical localities. The soul... what is it? Where did it come from?" She sighed heavily, steam in her nose flowing out smoothly, like a trail of airborne saliva. She took another whiff, feeling a relaxation far down inside her throat. She was an intellectual, born and bred. She explained to him further, "That's why I chose you. I gave up Edward because he has no soul, really. He even said so. I could quote him if you want, but that's not important. Thing is, I was willing to give him up even though he would have been the next best thing. It's like in econ class I'm taking at community college. When my budget setting includes you, that's what I need. I love you almost as much as Jesus I love also."

Bella got up and leered deep into Jacob's eyes, and they leaned together smoothly. Jacob placed his upper lip above Bella's upper lip, and his lower lip below that, then pressed his face into hers and stuck his tongue into her mouth cavity. They moved their bodies into contortions to better approximate each other, and began to gyrate. A gigasatellite veered overhead, many miles. Its refractive surfaces shone like the moon. Jacob's lips moved back and forth like slugs, and Bella whinnied in pleasure at the sensation. Jacob then proceeded to nip marginally at Bella's upper lip, which remained lodged between his two lips and now his upper and lower teeth as well. It was a remarkable feeling, full of romance.

They separated for air, gasping. Jacob leaned back in.

"I love you," Jacob huskily whispered into the side of her head, "And I want to renew our wedding vows tomorrow. When I get home from the office, where I work, I'm taking a few days off, and we can go to Cameroon for the week. It will be wonderful, don't you think?"

"Yes, I love you so. I can't wait to..." she watched eerily as he began to float out of the car, his body suddenly slacking. Bella's visuals could barely discern a black form in the darkness, obfuscating the starless night. Her heart beat with vigor, like a living animal. Fury laced her veins. "Who are you? Why do you take him from me? I demand his return post haste!"

A deep voice inside her head said, _You have no say in this matter. Leave here, and never return._

Many police came running. They shot many bullets at the creature but it was evanescent and ethereal and they only managed to wound it. Flew away it did, carrying its talons with Jacob's unconscious face. The Creature's black form faded into the night darkly. "Help me, Jacob!" screamed Bella angstily.

"Hello ma'am, I am Lieutenant James K. Vogt," said the man, his form next to hers. "I am handling this investigation. Your boyfriend was abducted, so come with me to the station. We have questioning to ask you."

**To be continued...**


	9. Equestrian Abdication

**Chapter 9: Equestrian Abdication**

**AN: This is based loose upon a real experience of my friend Kendall. Her story is a sad one, but true without regard, though secondly the half is not quite true. We must respect such sadness. I pay respects thus, as she has indeed helped with editations. Love you girl!**

Bella Black turned the bacon over onto its backside. Its loose fat lay splayed smoothly upon the face of the plate. Said alabaster disk sat upon the table in the dark room. A mirror stood upon the wall ominously, and very many dark corners were held within the confines of the room.

A single light floated in the middle of the room, shining down its revealing light upon the table. The tables legs stood on the floor. The surface of the table and the ground paralleled. Bella poked the bacon.

The man's detached face of James K. Vogt refrained that "I am the good cop, though you had best keep on your toes, Bella Black."

"You can't scare me," Bella Black elucidated. "I have an ever-burning fire. I'm not extinguishing it for your likes."

"Do not make this much difficult than it could have been. We can help each other, you and I, together." James K. Vogt's mouth flapped loosely. His voice echoed about the chamber. The window refracted its contents unabashedly.

"Your face cannot frighten me," her eyes scanned over him. The lights reflected within his eyes which shined ambiguously. His lips separated and slowly pulled apart, and within them his teeth surfaced. He contained cheekbones within his skin and an unbelievable chin hung on the bottom of his head.

"Fine," quote he, "that you say that. I guess we'll just have to let you go. I will be back soon with many empty signature spaces."

His rumpus was the last portion of James K. Vogt who left the pool of light. All else was lost to thought. Bella sat quietly, her delicate, sensitive hands folded upon the table in her forefront. The fingers were placed together, one after the other. The first finger going from outside to inside was the left pinky, followed by the right pinky. Bella Black's eyes perambulated across the surface of her hands and the gaze was withering. Her knowledge knew which was coming.

It was a round face which slinked out from the gloom, following a nose, then thin pencil-drawn eyebrows. Huge asian eyes glared statically out from the gloom. The face was disembodied from the dark. Giant hair flowed in rivulets from her hair pores. The hair remained black, and blended thus with its darkness surrounding. The skin was pasted white upon the features. It was just like that one scene in The Grudge where the grudge face came flying out of a closet when Karen opened the door in order to escape from the grudge who spazzed down the stairs.

The gaping face hole that was her mouth opened, and words came out. They said raspishly, "Where is your beau?"

"I'll never tell," and Bella spilled back from the table to escape the facial influence.

The face bobbed like a lantern around the corner of the lamplight. It consternated as it struggled to approximate Bella's position without jeopardizing its mystery. Bella stumbled in the dark screaming.

"Who the hell are you?" Bella exclaimed.

"My name is Sophia Loren. Many years ago, I was internationally sex-symbolic," the face claimed, its nose wavering in the lamplight. "Plastic surgery deconstructed my structure and now I have the inability to inspire lust. I had to take this day job to connect my ends."

"Leave me alone!" Bella expelled, her face aghast. "This tragedy of your features is too much for me to bear out!"

"I will stare you down to the gates of hell, and when you are driven to madness and only able to gibber, I will get the information. Where is your boyfriend?" the face hovered inconsistently.

"I do not know! Cease this! I cannot stomach your face!" Bella insisted.

"Did you not summon the demon whose talons bore off the the stud's limp frame?"

"No! Never!"

"Perhaps I can assist in your escape." The voice still held the allure of sexuality, and its contrast with the face was tragic. _Lost, _thought Bella Black, _forever. Youth dies young; perhaps I made the wrong choice. Is it better to spark and fade with Jacob, whose flesh holds such heat and passion? Or to live forever with Edward, like a Grecian urn to which an ode be sung, never to change or fade, but never to live? _

While lost in reverie, Sophia Loren's mug had left the scene. A few minutes faded past. Suddenly light flooded the room as the window exploded outward. A horse flew in to the room, Sophia's loose skin hanging over its sides. "Approach my horse," said Sophia Loren, "and we shall leave with haste! I cannot bear to hold you here longer, knowing what I now know. We leave, and if I shall die in the struggle it will be a heroic death whose song shall be sung in legend!"

**To be continued...**


	10. Disco Diva, Dead on the Dance Floor

**Chapter 10: Disco Diva, Dead on the Dance Floor**

The breathing soft and shallow. Her nose like a river delta, the air like water, flowing in, and out, mixing to form a nosy brine. The police station silent. The horse brayed, sound like waves from a dropped stone, spreading out into a lake.

"We do not yet see anything," Bella Black stated, her brow in furrows.

"There is usually present at least some reserve force, though I dispatched of the good cop from the routine. His name, James K. Vogt, is now dead, lying facedown on the floor which is beneath his supple form." The horse carried them slowly through the empty hallways. The empty hallways were like the small intestines of some giant beast, and the police men's Marilyn Manson posters stood on the wall. Some of them fell on the floor as the sticky stuff wore off. They never sell very good sticky stuff for hanging posters up; they are always falling or ripping.

Many of the walls were white with paint, and many more were not. Many did not have posters on them. Every now and then, an indentation in a wall led to a fancy water fountain which shot its contents directly into your face, no matter where you stood. _Technology has advanced in at least the 31 years since the year 2011, _Bella Black observed wisely.

After many hours wandering about inside of this labyrinth, the woman Bella Black intoned, "What is this place?" She did not know, for the deceived James K. Vogt had given here a drugged cup of water, and the last thing remembered before the interrogative location was that police car's have extremely well designed logos, with a sort of weave pattern like the popular hair style of the day, and then a V cut right into it. Maybe a bit of an X as well, for she could barely discern what she knew.

"Many years ago, in perhaps 2020, they built many large subterranian complex to house the most offensive criminals. All manner of scum lay here, where they attempted to reform them: multiple murderers, repeat rapers, criminals with white collars, and aggressive atheists." Sophia Loren's face swept the scene, alert for changes in movement. Her eyes were looking out of her face and swiveled on an axle. "Here they wasted their ways, and slowly the system gave up on their resignation. Fitting, then, that they were housed close to hell, which is traditionally thought to be inside of the earth, and this complex is inside of the earth. It completes its sufficiency alone using geothermal energy and very hot lamps that make the plants grow. They even have a pig farm."

"How to escape?" Bella questioned.

"I am not sure. After my sex symbolism faded and my skin became like loose pillow sheets, I sold myself to here for a day job. I have not seen the skylights yet for over a baker's dozen of years." Sophia Loren saddened, her face melting into a frown like a hard boiled egg shelled before its prime, with the albumen liquidated. Many years were added to her face. It was just like in the Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers, when that king guy for Rohan had his old guy makeup fall off, but instead it was in reverse.

"Thank you for sharing you," Bella sympathized, her hand stretching out of her arm socket and she patted Sophia Loren's on her back. But all the patting could not change her, for she was permanently like a prune.

Many hours later, they came across a door which offshoot from the main hallway, its frame standing in the wall. They removed their horse and felt the door up, looking for a handle but there was none. The door was likened to an elevator, so Bella Black made a guess. "UP. DOWN." she said, but there were no noises within its Dracula deeps. It was not activated by speech like normal elevators.

"Over here!" shouted Sophia Loren from the position of her face on Bella's left. Bella inclined her head. Small round objects were embedded into the wall, each with an error shape. A key hole gaped into the wall below. "I remember these, for they are what we used to use for elevators!"

Bella Black did not understand, but Sophia Loren place one finger solely upon the upwards pointing arrow, and applied pressure until it slid marginally into the wall. Her finger flexed underneath the flaccid skin. The liver spots on her hand were a momentary distraction for Bella, but then the door sprang open and went _ding. _

_Time to go, _thought Bella Black, _but to where and from where? Why does life present us with obstacles, when often it does not present us with what lies beyond them? Is it really worth it, to enter this device? To keep calm and carry on, when the world is anything but friendly, and when all that is and all that ever was has been taken from me? Do I believe in the power of the human soul?_

They entered the door and left the horse outside, where it saddened. "An elevator is no place for ponies," Sophia said, "move along." The horse galloped onwards as the door slid shut of its own accord. Sophia pushed another embedded circle which lay on the interior elevator, and they could feel the barometric pressure differential and the resistance to the movement of the elevator box pressed their inertia downwards.

It took several seconds, maybe more, before the door opened and they exited into what remained of an old Disco Saloon, like many others that were set up in the 2020s. A binary ball hung from a thread, its wires snapped. It had many reflective surfaces but unlike its cousin the disco ball the binary ball was also a speaker. Its two functions loaned the name binary for the audiovisual components thereof.

Lights emanated out of the ceiling lamps. The light seemed quavery, like water on a windy day, and yet it was only a feeling. It was ominous. The ceiling and the floor and walls were situated in the peculiar way that one often finds ceilings, floors, and walls. Only several doors were placed within the walls to lead out onto other rooms or hallways.

Holding up the ceiling were several stuccoed pillars, square in shape. The chairs were haphazardly placed around tables which surrounded the periphery of the disco stage. Very few were pushed in, and even those that were not occupied by dehydrated, mummified corpses were not properly stacked in the chair containers which lined the back of the room. A skeletal disk jockey lay splayed on his disk container. The same noise emanated the room of a song playing the same ten seconds over and over. _It must be dubstep, _Bella concluded to herself.

"What is," said Bella, "this place?" 

"I am not relatively certain," whispered Sophia Loren's face.

The two forms began to huddle in the center of the room below the binary ball, their fright palpitating.

"Sophia," whispered Bella urgently, "I need to ask you something. I need to know, before it's too late. _Do you believe in the power of the human soul?_"

The lights flickered, then fell. All was dark. Silence and breathing dominated the scene. And then, somewhere in the distance, an inhuman noise, halfway between a scream and a howl.

"Was that you?" Sophia Loren asked.

**To be continued...**

**AN: My roommate sexiled me this week so I've had more time to write but still I want to know how I'm doing, so please review. Jesus bless you this holiday season. **


	11. Hallelujah, Zombie! has Risen

**Chapter 11: Hallelujah, Zombie! has Risen **

**AN: This is a violent chappie so just warning you.**

Sophia Loren and Bella Black pushed their feelers around in the dark, groping like a married couple in a dark room. Hopeless air compressed their lungs from all sides as they began to claustrophobe. Panic raced through their minds as though it were one type of neuropathology.

Bella Black and Sophia Loren held a pair of hands together to prevent separation. Bella Black suddenly stumbled upon the something which was on the floor where she had placed her right side leg. Stumbled she into another region, no Sophia Loren to hand her in the right direction.

"Sophia Loren!" she screamed in the oppression darkness, her eyes spinning in their sockets in a desperate attempt like a telescope whose goal was to approximate the position of Sophia Loren's paste-colored, sagging face. Bella Black began to run in many directions until she fell down upon some form of thing.

Bella Black could not determine the genre of the body she had stumbled across. She felt it up and found its mummified face. "Sophia Loren?" asked Bella Black, wondering. She pressed her hands upon the face, and it did not yield. She stretched at the skin, but it did not stretch. The mummified face was not Sophia Loren's. It had a police hat upon its brim. Bella felt down the lumpy corpse until she found the police utility belt. "Flashlight!" she screamed, and flashed it on.

Then she zoomed her flashlight about like a light house, and found Sophia Loren. "You're alright!"

"Where have you been?" Sophia asked smoothly through her drooping, plump lips. She pursed the two members in consternated frustration, and they glistened in the flashlight circle like a bright red beetle.

The noise from the last chapter suddenly noised again. It was unto a howl and a yell, yetsomewhere in between.

The flashlight moved its limits in a swerve, and the end of the parabolic arc flashed across the scene. It illuminated the wall behind the left of Sophia Loren's head, raced along in a straight line and then jumped out from the intersection of its ray with one of the pillars, throwing up a shadow on the wall, before moving back to the wall and then continuing to race, though this time with a tad of a slant. It illuminated various disco portraits:

"_'Dance, Dance until you Die!'_

_Disney's "Hocus Pocus"-themed dance! _

_This Friday, July 15th 2031 at 8:00 PM... police only. _

_Make sure to bring your black flame candle!"_

and

"_Don't forget- safety first! Always have a dance partner, and watch your drinks."_

and

"_Closed this next week for World War 3 Day!"_

The flashlight finally returned to a blank wall space, then another pillar, and then it illuminated the source of the noise. Leah Clearwater was barely distinguishable from her face as it used to be. Her skin flaked off in great sheets. Her clothes were ripped from various directions- side-to-side, up-to-down, some slantways. She still had a nose but this time it was sort of like a hole, and her eyes were a milky white, like a cereal bowl filled with milk but not yet filled with cereal. Her hair remained the color of chocolate. She appeared hispanic or vaguely aboriginal. Maybe Native American. It was parted in the middle, and fell to her shoulders on either side of her face. She appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. Her eyebrows were placed above the left eye and the right eye respectively, and were thin and archless. Bella observed that she had very full lips.

"Leah Clearwater?" Bella stated, "What is wrong? When you told me to warn Janisa De'Loreal via telephone that you were on her way, you did not appear in such distress."

"AwaaooooooOOOOOL!" the wolfish face howled. "Gar! Gar WOOOOOOOF! Grrr..."

Sophia Loren's voice was heard off to the side, "What is this trickery? Is she woman or she wolf?"

"She is both; I did not tell you, but there are vampires and werewolves in eternal angry state, and they fight for many years along," Bella Black intoned, gesticulating with all of her postures, "This is one such werewolf."

"Does she usually look so much like this crap?"

"No, this is not the case. She must be a Zombie now."

Suddenly Leah began to run towards Bella Black. Bella Black stumbled and walked over to Sophia. "We'll take her in a team fashion!"

"Stand back!" Sophia Loren commanded. And, from deep within her shawls a sword came slinking, all out of its sheath. The blade glistened with bloodlust.

Sophia thrust the think sword forward and Leah Clearwater danced backwards, pulling out another sword.

"I recognize that stinger there," said Bella Black. "It is a powerful weapon, so watch out for its power! Be extra careful, Sophia Loren!"

"Quickly, I must fight!" Sophia Loren espoused.

Leah Clearwater's zombie form battled to get at Sophia's loose skin, but Sophia thrust the blade and it glanced offward. The swords flashed back and forth in the gloom. It was just like in that one scene in Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, where Luke and Vader are fighting in the place where Han Solo had its body placed in a metal block with steam, and then it was very gloomy of a fight.

Sophia thrust her sword forward again and again. At the last moment she pulled up the sword and it almost glanced Leah's face, but Leah backflipped away and then Sophia danced forward, her footwork barely sustaining the level of performance.

Leah moved forward and then moved her sword in such a way that it came near Sophia. Sophia lost a bit of her as the skin cut and some fluid blood leaked out loosely, like she was a balloon half-filled with curdled beet-colored custard that had been punctured by something sharp, maybe a kitchen knife.

Leah moved backwards and then she lifted her hand above her head and moved them so that they looked like an S, and then held the blade with the left hand, which was Sophia's right, and then she pulled downward and the air sizzled as the blade pushed insistently forward into Sophia's face. Sophia ducked, and only her hair was cut. She was slower. Her saggy skin was hindering her in the fight.

Leah whipped the blade around in a whipping motion and hacked at Sophia, but Sophia had her arms up and only the left arm was lost. With her other hand, Sophia pulled Leah's sword into her armpit, then she moved her sword and hacked at Leah's neck. _Hack hack hack. Hack hack hack. _It took many hits, because wolves have very strong necks. Then it snapped and Sophia smote Leah down upon the dance floor. The flashlight lay discarded, illuminating the scene. The binary ball refracted some of the light and it glistened down upon the zombified headless body of Leah.

Sophia Loren slowly lowered her sword arm. Her other arm was leaking blood down her side, but she did not seem to care, for victory was hers.

Then, with no warning, Leah's body grabbed her leg, and began to lift its sword.

"Run!" and they ran away, "This foe has beyond any of our skills!"

The door slammed shut as they ran away down the hallways, following the prism of light diffusing from the flashlight into the misty dark.

**AN: Don't worry, Sophia doesn't need her arm because she is secretly (unbeknownst to her) part non-dead. Merry Christmas! **


	12. An Unexpected Guest

**Chapter 12: An Unexpected Guest**

A single tear strode down my cheek.

I wiped it with my left arm. It created a spot on the sleeve of such an arm. It wore a deep red sweater, the color of an orange with less yellow.

"So the chances of the victory conditions being attained," lamented I, "are less than zero? That means they are negative. Negative numbers are not a closed set... we have no lower bound to sustain us. We have no way of knowing how hopeless we are. We could be... less than hopeless."

"Have faith," said Genghis Van Helsing, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

I nodded my face at his words, but without Leah Clearwater our chances were as slim as Megan Fox was in that one movie, Jonah Hex, where the director wanted her to squeeze into this really thin dress and so she lost a lot of weight.

Suddenly there was a knocking upon the chamber's door. Genghis Van Helsing's cape swooshed to the door, the man stumbling. The door began to be opened. Slowly a man's torso behind it was revealed. The man's torso murked in the dark, giving way to its face. Said face lay confined to an arbitrarily small hood, his eyes like diamonds in the rough black of his soiled face. His lips were inside of the hood too, and his nose has a light effect on it so it was visible to the observers. The nose tapered to its point smoothly, like a graceful swan.

"I am a demon messenger whose fight shall be with you shortly," said he, the man's vocal chords mashing. His voice, indeed, continued, saying, "Leah Clearwater was the first but who shall be the last of the line? Death has fated you for your doom apparent."

"What is this trickery?" the lips said, they were Genghis Van Helsing's.

"Enough of this!" and I shouted, "Reveal yourself!"

In short order a cape hood was lowered. No more was the face obfuscated, and it lay barren. The locality of his far left eye (that being my right) was swathed with a tear-shaped tattoo scar. Glasses so thin they seemed stenciled to his face. He smiled easily. His toned legs poked out from beneath the cape. He had cat-shaped pupils.

"My name," he paused his tempo, adjusting to the setting, "is Jack Vincent Kale the Impaler. I am a prince of my native lands."

Genghis Van Helsing cleared his throaty mucus membranes. His aside voice cast its waves directionally, my hearing receiving the following message whose whispered tones were askant: "I have hear of this man. We had best watch our stepwise while he is in our presence. He is not to be truffled with."

To his forward face he said: "Jack, we meet again. What have you done with Leah Clearwater."

"She is a zombie now."

"Ah, shucks!" I screamed.

"She does my bidding now," he gloated.

"Jack, you must die! You do not belong here!"

"I was brought back. I return for the Vampires who wished to tribunal me!"

"Tribute?" he queried, "You stole their souls and made slaves withal!"

"Perhaps you could convey such a factoid regarding all religions!"

"The fool has said in his heart, there is no God!" Genghis Van Helsing pointed out wisely.

"The God of the Old Testament is perhaps the most wicked literary character in literature!"

"Fool of you, to say such filth." From the corner recess of his cape his sword arm came lurching. Attached to its end was a sword. Genghis Van Helsing opened his mouth slantwise. "It is a time to end this!"

**To be continued...**

**PLEASE REVIEW THANKS**


	13. My Feet Form the Basis

**Chapter 13: My Feet Form the Basis**

"In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth." Genghis Van Helsing spat, "Now it is time that shall I _un-_create you henceforth."

The man's brim quaked. He held his sword arm. It was however unwavering, a candle in the dark. Jack Vincent Kale the Impaler was the man.

His face eyed Genghis Van Helsing, darting back and forth. The swords suddenly were clashed. The man growled, and the other did not. Sound was everywhere. Action jumped back and forth. No one could see. The frame is shaking. Steady heartbeats fill your ears.

I filled the air with the contents of my lungs and all was chaos and the sickly walls tinged green came caving down about my anxiety. I am Janisa De'Loreal.

I could not take the pressure of the situation. My symptoms included, but were unlimited to: fatigue, irritability, problems falling or staying asleep, restlessness, and a high startle response. And so I ran.

I do not know unto which I ran, only that my body was one-to-one with the feeling of escape, the need, the pressing down, the fullness of the pressure behind my arched brows, the empty pillow case, the forgotten fruit left rotting, the rebel confined to a minivan— like in that one song where the mom used to be really cool and stuff and had all these plans, but now her kids think she's not very cool and she feels like it's still the 80s, or maybe the 90s, I can't remember. My feet carried me from the surjective chamber room.

_Flashback_

_I am five years old. My mother was looking back at me instead of driving. She was a single mother, with much divorcement. Suddenly instead of looking at the road she runs off the road. The car slams onto a tree on the right. We were in England so she was located on the right side of the car, because in England that is the driver's side of the car. The branch slammed through the window and slapped her face like some arboreal pimp. "Ouch," my mother said, her words fading. She became a coma for two years, and when she woke up she loses her job. Now she is an unemployed. Her vagabond gets all over the place and I cry myself to sleep all night on my empty pillowcase._

_End Flashback_

I hyperventilate myself from the breathing of too much air, and choke on the sensation. I was passing out from the nervous wreckage, but deep in my breasts I was glad. I knew from my woman's intuition: there was no reason to be worried nevertheless. Edward was alive. I could feel his eyes staring at my neck, pricking me. We were together again.

I fell, and he caught me in his frozen arms. They had yet to thaw completely. I remembered my memory of how he had placed himself inside the freezer at Dairy Queen and sent out a doppelganger to protect me. He had erased my mind so I could not give up the secret.

The time was coming. Revenge was a hand.

**AN: This is where I revealed some of the stories which are from the backstory. I hope you enjoyed the revelations and now I take my leave. REVIEW NOW**


	14. International Maiden of Mystery Part 1

**Chapter 14: International Maiden of Mystery Part 1**

Once upon a time, Sophia Loren and Bella Black were racing through the hallways of the police institute, their velocity's speed faster than could be accounted for in the standard model of physics. Bella Black raised her throat, her breaths pumping. Said breathing apparatus faltered, and she coughed a great deal all the same.

"Are you alright? Let us pause for a moment, for I can feel the ghost of fatigue settling down on my limbs." Sophia Loren panted heavily, in and out. "Now we must rest our weary face."

"Are we almost out of this contraption?" Bella Black whined haltingly, which means pausing every now and then.

"Sometimes," Sophia Loren inspired. "But for now let us be content. I have no idea where we are. My sagging skin has been locked away down here for a life age of the earth, and we must follow our noses. Give them time to smell the air doesn't smell so bad over there."

"I am sorry. Can I hear of your time that you spent here and why?" Bella Black questioned, "You were not always so ugly, were you? There was a time when people looked to you when sex appealing."

_Flashback:_

_There was a time when Sophia Loren had a woman's face, and sweat like meltwater drooled down the backs of all who viewed it. She was like a queen, as beautiful and terrifying as the morning. All despised her worshipfully. _

_Today she was wearing a lace-up corset underneath a leather dress. The leather warped around her firm caboose and calf region, covering up smooth skin the tinge of tawny malachite. Her lips were placed directly in the center of her face, though displaced downwards so that they were perhaps one quarter of the way up from the chin. Her nose had a certain... je ne sais quoi. _

_Anyway today she was going out shopping with her husband named Georgi "Paul" Bernadinberg. Said man was a famous magi, which is what they called math people many years hence. It's like in that movie, Little Man Tate, where the kid idolizes this math magician guy. That's what they used to call them. Math Magi. _

"_Paul," said she, "In what way, directionally, are we heading to get where we want to go? Are we going to Urbane Outfit Sales, which in the distant future may be renamed?"_

"_No, my eager beaver, tonight we're going somewhere special. Banana Republican."_

"_That's so romantic. I can't wait 'till I see those chops. Banana Republican sells top of the line shrapnel, or should I say top of the banana tree, ha!"_

_The men and women all around were leering straight at the pair of lovers. They laughed gregariously at her joke, which was funny. _

_Many women looked at Georgi "Paul" Bernadinberg's Armanian suit, which swathed his rotund form. He had a pleasant belly that cut away sharply before forming a pair of stretchy legs that reached all the way to the floor. Said legs were adorned with pants, perhaps beige. His eyes, when they were open, were a pleasant blue. He squinted often. Many hairs were not on his head, but wrapped around the side of it. He appeared confused. _

"_That joke was a good one! It reminds me of a story. Back when I was a child, those everywhere peoples used to put on clothing the strangest way. Some still do! Once you hear the alternative method I'm about to expose, you'll understand why it's a countably better method than the one everyone else uses, and you'll wonder, 'Hey, why didn't anyone else teach me that?'_

"First, _you must put on the pants. _Then, _you put on the belt. _Then,_ you wrap your scarf. Have I told you about scarfs? Raise your hand if you're familiar with scarfs. Okay, well you'll learn more about them later..."_

_Sophia Loren followed his gaze as he trailed off, staring at the huge and large entrance to Banana Republican. Many times along there were three stories with many fancy clothes. Too many fancy clothes, beyond anyone's fathoms. They entered the store place. _

_Well anyway eventually they got to trying on the clothes they were picked out. _

"_How do I look, funnybunny?" Sophia Loren did a twirl. The skirt complemented her as it span, the g-force clear in its momentum. _

_Georgi "Paul" Bernadinberg pulled his arms into their sockets and held said hands in them. His hands grabbed the glasses upon his nose brim and they were removed with amazing speed, a blur of hasty energy unseen by the unbelieving women who followed his actions, eyeing them. The hands rested a bifocular distance away from each other upon his belly ledge. _

_He squinted, and then ejected, "That depends. I could answer that in several different ways. I'm going to go over them in the specific sense and we can generalize from there._

"_Let the number of people in this store be five. Of those five, at least one of them views you the least favorably, and at least one of them is an upper bound on the evaluation of your looks. The sequence by which you applied your clothes is similarly bounded. So we can say that by the general definition of beautiful, that is, Aristotelian beauty, you are the bound of the scale. By any other name, you are a 10. Your sweet abs, though invisible at this stage, can be sensed by the pheromonial nature of your body._

"_Now let's approach this from a different direction." The man paused, his eyes squinting. He squinted hard at her, then continued to eject: "Pretend you're confined to an arbitrarily small world, with a set number of people. If we extract a convergent subset of people by Bonzo-Weinerschnitzle method, it is clear that unless the sequence is evil, it will approach a number. That number is you. So you're the hottest damn gal this side of the equatorial bound." _

_The crowd swooned at her. _

_End Flashback. _

"So you see, it was quite a blow hard when I became such a hideous wench," Sophia Loren concluded, "since until then I was rigorously the best looking woman on the planet. Perfectly sex-symbolic. You could not believe it. But so it was. Alas! I have lost so much! I was so young! Now I am not! The flower of youth fades to be a damsel like me, wilted! Sad! Watch out!"

Bella nodded sublimely, taking note. _Is it really wise, then, that I have divorced Edward? He could have made me everlasting, like in that Tuck Everlasting movie where that really hot guy is like, hot forever, even though he's like 100 years old or something. Jacob Black may very well become an old wereman, crinkled and decaying, like this broad. _

"Just remember, your man might be good now. But one day he'll disappear. My hubby was trapped somewhere by something, and it will be a while before I reveal the mystery to you. We have yet to become friendlies and our relationship must develop."

The talk had taken them far, but they had at least many miles left to escape.

**AN: It's that season again, and God is in the air! Jesus is the reasonable season! Merry "Christ"-mas- keep the "x" out of the Christ, please. Review if it fancies you, now.**


	15. From Bussia With Love: Desert Bus Ride 1

**Chapter 15: From Bussia, with Love, OR, Desert Bus Ride 1**

**AN: This chappy's name is inspired by a wonderful review, thanks girl! (I think)... I have to tell you guys about this though. You know how my family is Christian, but there's this one atheist cousin and scares me. He's coming over Christmas to stay at our house, but for my trying to tell my parents, like, wtf. Cause I don't want somebody who worships satin to live in my house or something. He might kill the cat. Her name is Amelia Bedillia, after the name of the eponymous character of the book series. I think that's how you spell it. She's a prissy thing, but I love her nonetheless. This chapter's a longy but I bet y'all love it anyways so yeah.**

Facing the stars. Side by side. Sunrise. The air crisp. Man. Woman. One.

I ogled the stud. His strapped arms strained against their sleeve restraints. His body was the epitome of cold, loveless sex, but his deep eye sockets leering forward proved his was a soulful face. Said face opened, saying, "Janisa De'Loreal, I _see_ you."

"I see _you_, Ed."

We commingled. We stood in a bus stop at night, waiting for a bus to stop by. We were headed to the forest. I had told Ed that I wanted to escape this world, and he promised me we could. We would live, he had said, "in a forest," because forests were "far away from everything."

I sizzled his face with my human lips. The cold night air reflected in his flesh. This is why my lips sizzled him.

A bus rolled up forebodingly, its wheels turning. The bus had two front lights and stood at least a hand and a half off the ground. There were several compartments etched into its aluminum siding. The bus driver was invisible in the dark, but for two of his eyes which were lit slantwise by a somewhere lamp. Periodically his other face parts were lit by the glow of a pipe which hung loosely from what I could only assume was his mouth. Some steam obscured his eyes with each tuft of smoke.

Eddy and I entered the bus chamber.

"Whar're ya headed, n' whet da ya plon t' dew der?" the lamp-eyed man said.

"We are headed to Tuolumne Meadows, in the Yosemite. Our business is our own," the terse words.

"Jeez, na need ta gat 'll op 'n erms 'bout nutin'," said the flashlight man, "Go sit yurselves."

"Okay."

We were only the ones in the bus, and we sat in the far back. The back is the best place of the bus, in my humble opinion. Our seats were facing inward despite the backwardness, though, so we were looking across the aisle at empty chairplaces. The rest was deserted, like a desert but without tumbleweeds. However, there was a coincidence in terminology: the bus was situated in a desert!

The two-armed cactus silhouettes like in Mexico were all over the place. You know, the ones with their hands up like a bank-robbee or a standoffish cowboy without a weapon. "Don't shoot," they seemed to speak, but their silhouettes bore no defined meaning. There was uncertainty.

The bus ricketed along the road, its wheels turning. The two flashlights attached on the front end illuminated only the black of the road and the dirt at the sides. Suddenly, this description failed to apply. A puffy man with a fedora hat pulled low over his eyes, mysteriously wearing a concealing, thick trench coat, stood on the road's side-paneling. His thumb stuck out convincingly.

Our bus rolled to a stop, its wheels slowing. The hydrophobic doors _pff-haw_ed, opening. "Migh' I heelp yew?" the flashlight face man said.

The zaftig slowed up the steps ominously, and nodded. "I'm looking to leave this place. I don't care where I go, as long as it isn't here."

The plump flesh moved down the aisle and sat crossways from us. We could not see his hatted eyes, but Ed telekinesised me that "he is looking at us, because my Vampire sense says so."

The man's face erupted, the mouth opening: "Hello."

"Hello," we said unitedly.

"Who are you?"

"I am Janisa De'Loreal, and this is my boyfriend Edward Cullen. Who are you? And how did you come to be like this?"

"The story has much girth," he hinted, "But if your interest is pure, I could persist in it."

"We have the time," I punned, as this has double meanings. It can also mean that we know what time it is. Incidentally, that was also true, because Edward had a Rolex Watch on his righthand wrist.

"Okay. My name is Old Ben Bernadinberg, but everyone calls me Old Ben. If you call me Dr. Bernadinberg, while that would be true, I would call you 'Mrs. Janisa De'Loreal,' and we'd put an end to that in no time."

I gasped.

"I have liven in this desert for a longer time than you know, since before your birth most likely. I see your skeptic look Edward, but it is the truth unless it is not, believe me. How I got to be here is no important matter. Suffice it to say that I was tricked. Alas! for I have yet to get back at the trickster. He brought me here, and told me that the secret to Guild Wars, a classic game from many time along, was hidden in the shifting sands. And while I looked, he left." His face was squint-eyed but I could see the tears drooling down.

"You see, I had many enemies. I was, how do you say, an important person. And importance can be shown to construct a set of enemies. Hence, we can prove by showing that there's always a way to construct such a set from importance, every important person has enemies. Therefore, I can be shown to have had enemies.

"One such enemy, as I was speaking, abandoned my plump form in the shifting desert sands. Desolation could not describe my bleakness in those times. I searched for many days before I noticed that none of my characters were even at level nine yet... my computer had died of dehydration. My grandkids, whom I was helping win at the game, were no longer with me. And I noticed I had been abandoned. It was a sad time. If any of you would like to take my grandkids to the zoo when we get back to civilization, I'd appreciate it. Last time I saw them in person, we had gone to a penny museum, and I think they might like zoos better." Old Ben cried earnestly, the tears on his streaking form.

"Here's the problem whose baffling presence has prevented my escaping: nobody has gone through this desert and survived, ever. This road is cursed, and every bus or car that tries to pass on it is killed. This bus is the first that made it so far... far enough. I would have walked out of the desert, but I was too cursed. The curse was broad, and its source was the enemy I referred to in the earlier part of this story. He was a Werewizard: half man, half wizard- a werewolf's favorite food, by the way.

"I have certain skills. Combining them with the bus driver, whom has made it thus far, should be able to survive us. And we can end this road. I will go help this bus man now." And then Old Ben removed his seat and stood, his chubby belly squirming. During the story his glasses had been removed, and had been held on the shelf formed by his stomach. He now replaced them on his face. His eyes opened, making a squishing sound. It was clear: He had not unsquinted in many years. He must have been very serious about bus driving.

"Bus driver," he delivered. "It's time for me to drive." The bus driver tumbled out of his seat and the wheel careened into Old Ben's hand as he latched on at light speed. He had to move fast. The bus lurched, its wheels spinning, and the gas pedal had been depressed far down. Petal to the metal. Flying. The sense of inertia. Out of control. Racing. A quick escape. "Bus driver! Give me your pipe, the source of your power! I can't hold back much longer!"

The bus driver slammed the pipe into Old Ben's face. He puffed and the steam abdicated itself from his nasal passage. "I'm done fucking around. It's time to get serious. You want to mess, road curse? Well, how do you like this?"

Old Ben's eyes turned red as he powered up. His explosive face transformed. The hat flew off his head and span out of the bus window. The wind whipped and whined, and the old bus man cried and screamed, "Oh Lordy, Lordy!" and he shook and shivered and the wind went _BUSY-BUSY- KAZOOOOO! _The trench coat began to dissolve with energy and the true form of the man in the seat was revealed, wearing khakis and a flannel shirt. The red eyes burned with energy (we could see them, by the way, because in the nighttime windows are reflective, and we were watching him by proxy of the front window).

The action intensified. The wind continued, _busy, busy, BUSY-BUSY-KAZZOOO! KAZOOO! _And far off in the desert the sound of a cursed voice trailed, "_You cannot escape! You cannot escape your destiny! Who's driving the bus? Who? WHO?"_

**AN2: Hey so this chapter was a bit experimental, I like to push the limits. Let me know how it do. **


	16. The Mysterious Dripping Noise

**Chapter 16: The Mysterious Dripping Noise and Leaving Las Vegas**

_Location: Underground Cavern_

"_What_," Bella Black insisted, "is that dungeon dripping noise?"

The loose skin flaps on Sophia Loren's chin were shaking as she spoke, saying, "We are many miles beneath the surface, methinks. Deep streams of water are the lifeblood of the earth. They flow and eddie inside of it currently, and well up in pools and lakes underground, where they wait, and far below the lakes these caverns run, several dozen leagues of rock hold up these ceilings, water dripping down withal."

Bella Black let her face fall, then picked it up, and repeated the cycle, nodding. "I cannot turn the time into heads or tails; it may have been several moons since we fled the corpse creature, or several minutes."

Sophia Loren looked at the walls. The rock was roughly hewn here, without the chic fashion technology of the previous prison complex. _Perhaps a planned expansion?_ Sophia Loren looked at the floor. On the floor were several stripe patterns running parallel, raised slightly from the floor, with orthogonally placed flattened iron of the raised stripe patterns was slightly larger and higher up and close to the middle of the whole thing. There were six stripes in all, with a line of symmetry at the midline. _Hmmm... Aha! They are tracks! For a train._

To test her claim, she neared the middle of the possible tracks, and slid her sort out of its pocket socket. Then she touched both of the middle lines together with the sword.

_ZAP! ZAP! CRACKLE ZAP!_

Arcing electricity exploded everywhere. The dim emergency lighting that lit the way flickered, and several bulbs exploded. A line of lightening zoomed down the track to where Bella Black stood petrified, like a piece of a tree left in the ground so long it turns to stone. The lightening grabbed Bella Black and swung her violently at the cavern wall, and she screamed as she flew!

Sophia Loren removed the sword and dragged her bones, encased loosely in a sack of skin, to where Bella lay by the side of the tracks. "Are you alright darling?"

Bella Black nodded her face for the second time already. Then, she got up, her limbs creaking from the static damage.

_Location: Bus_

It was dawning by the time that the bus rolled out of the desert, its tires spinning. Said tires had deflated from the stab of cactus creatures who had earlier been unleashed, and one of its front exterior flashlights had been demolished likewise. Of the windows on the right side, the first, third, and sixth panes, out of the eight panes available, were partly or fully smashed. Of the windows on the left side, the second, third and forth windows, out of nine available panes, were partly or fully broken out. The bus produced a creaking noise. Old Ben had used all of the bus driver's magic tobacco, and they had only just escape.

Safely out of the desert, the bus was pulled over by Old Ben. We all left the bus, and found a slab of rock somewhere in the sand. We were now in Las Vegas, having come all the way from the greater Los Angeles region. Old Ben produced an etcher, which he used to inscribe:

_On this day, at least by December 2031_

_The great desert was traversed _

_By a warlock, a magi, and a bus._

_Never forget. Never forgive. _

Then we all went out to eat breakfast at Denny's to celebrate. I ordered a Grand Slam and a glass of milk. Edward ordered a steak, bloody rare. The others ordered sausage and omelets. Edward was sucking on his steak, _slurp slurp, _and I said, "Thank you, mysterious Old Ben and bus driver. I really appreciate your help traversing this desert. Now we will be able to approach Tuolumne Meadows by the backward pass. But before that, how about enjoying Las Vegas for a while?"

We had a wholesome day. I played the penny slots until lunch with Ed, and then we ate at a buffet that I think is called Flavors. It had really good orange chicken, I recommend it. And it wasn't that expensive either! After that, we watched a pirate show. They sang songs. And the cannons were convincing. I played billiards then.

At the end of the day, we all met up and ate a wonderful dinner at Margaritaville. There wasn't much there besides fish, chips, and alcohol, and so we only had fish and chips.

"Alcohol is disgusting, isn't it?" I asked.

"Oh yes, we hate it," Old Ben confirmed.

"It is immoral," asserted the bus driver correctly, "and illogical."

"It tastes like rubbing alcohol smells," I continued, "Gross!"

Ed didn't have to speak. He laughed at the idea of imbibing alcohol: "Ha ha ha."

After that we rented a penthouse for the night using money from Ed's pawned Rolex, which was not really important to him, because even though it was a 100 year old perfectly working antique, he is rich. He is a vamp, after all!

"My name is Wayne," the bus driver said, "look what I have," pulling out a pot.

We inhaled it happily, and fell asleep. It did not addict us. It is safe. We did not OD on the pot. It was only once, since we were having fun in Las Vegas, so come on. Relax.

The next morning, we drove to Tuolumne Meadows (in case you forgot, that's in Yosemite), and we said goodbye to Wayne before he offed himself into the distance.

Old Ben decided to accompany us, and we wandered five miles off the road where we could set up camp. We were in a glen by a brook. Everything was happy and we fell in slumber.


	17. God Bless America, Land of Bernadinberg

**Chapter 17: God Bless America, Land of Bernadinberg**

We, and by we I mean myself and the person with me, who incidentally was Sophia Loren, and I was Bella Black, entered the forest scene. After long travels down a hallway we emerged into said scene. The grass was green and the trees were green–and the sky was blue– and the moss too. The sparrows flapped their wing joints aimlessly in happy abandons.

Only the tallest tree in the scene was perhaps 5000 feet tall, and stretched many arms around basewise. The roots entered the ground like a many-headed snake. Its octopus branches branched out at least half way up the tree, in the direction of the sky.

Around the scene were other trees, which were green and brown, and then some verdant emerald bushes, and natural sawdust coated the floorspace. The bushes had prickles. It would hurt to run through them. You should not do such things.

"What are those lumpish articles laying the way they lie on the river slope?" Sophia Loren's loose lips dribbled. We were approached by the glen. The glen was by the river. The river lazed about in a surprising riverbed tangent to the forest scene.

It turned out that they were human shapes. The lumps spoke: "Hello, who is this?"

"It is me, and my friend whose name I call Ed!"

"My friends refer to me as Bella Black since my remarriage to the stud who is tragically a spirit away at this point in the story. Nice to meet you Janisa De'Loreal."

"Yes, I am."

The introductions smoothed over and soon the fattest lump wiggled forth, though now it had human form. The mound of human lard open its maw, its slitted shark eyes constrained within large glass frames. His hat cast a shadow, as hats tend to, but the shadow could not hide his criss-cross flannel casing and khakis.

"And who can you be, little friend?" I proferred.

"I go by Old Ben. Old Ben Bernadinberg."

"Bernadinberg..."

"Wait, are you the same Ed to whom I am a former ex-wife?"

"Yes, I am."

"What a coincidence! So you are my ex-husband, then? Nice to see you here, though in movies it can be awkward to meet former liaisons."

"Wait, do you know a man named Georgi who has your last name? He goes by Paul. By the way, right now I am Sophia Loren speaking," she said.

"Paul?" he took off his glass frames and held them on his flesh mound. "Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time."

**To be continued...**


	18. The 'Big' Reveal

**Chapter 18: The 'Big' Reveal**

Sophia Loren's balloon lips crinkled into a smile, youth newly flavoring her features.

"Georgi 'Paul' Bernadinberg, yes, that's me," and they kissed, at long last, and the years melted from Sophia Loren like warm lard, bubbling and hissing, deforming, the oils coming out of newly-burst pores with wet _plops_ like the sound of manure under a shoe. At the end she seemed a hollow shell, like some wax figurine in a dutch oven, her hair having fallen out in large patches so that she looked like a tortured, guttered barbie doll.

Georgi "Paul" Bernadinberg finally opened his eyes with a squelch and then opened them wider and with a half-panicked grunt, he shoved her off his stomach ledge and the skin on her arms broke and spilled a mix of something red with a consistency like curdled milk and rancid canola oil and he screamed through lips that wouldn't open. The skin on her lips had stuck to his - in fact, most of her lower lip, its consistency like kindergarten paste, stayed pressed to his as her body careened backwards and her loose skin flopped and moved unnaturally as though she were some deformed halibut. He tried to pull at his lips but the smell of the red heterogeneous gel on his hands had a smell so bad that he passed out.

"Crickey!" shouted Bella Black, "Why would you do that, Sophia Loren?"

"Did you really think Sophia Loren would be alive after at least 2032? She'd be almost 100 or perhaps many years older than that! Did you really think she would get a day job as a police interrogator? That James K. Vogt's name and twenty cops would take you into a police station and subsequently disappear forever? How stupid are you?"

"Fucking thing sucks!" Bella Black ascertained.

"I do not understand this general shift in the narrative structure," said Janisa De'Loreal, "since I have not yet been a prominent part of the story arc in which you two are characters. I feel like I have suddenly entered a story completely unrelated to mine. Therefore I am confused about whether Sophia Loren is a villain who has been in disguise, and if so whether there have been hints, or whether she has been like this the whole time and Bella Black just keeps unusually bad company. Either way, I am concerned for Old Man Bernadinberg whose name is apparently Paul, too. Very nice lipstick."

The half-lipless body of Sophia Loren still melted, but a structure underneath kept it upright as it flopped around. Its eyes had turned the color and shape of overcooked brussel sprouts, its teeth had fallen to various places on its chin. "How is this for a hint?" its face howled in the same gravel-deep voice it had always used, like a long-time smoker with male genitalia trying to sound like an old woman, "I obviously wear this skin like a cheap robe. This face jerks disjointedly, its lips barely related in their movements to the guttural sounds that emit from them. I move and speak and am described like a loose pillow of cadaverous skin with a puppet-head sticking out of it on a pole. And yet I can sword fight with a zombie werewolf and easily emerge the victor. My arm fell off and I forgot about it in a second!"

Georgi "Paul" Bernadinberg was starting to shrivel up. Piece by piece, his body was desiccating. He no longer breathed.

"And what a coincidence that an entire fortress of policemen, obviously still in use, would have mummified corpses, uncollected, unburied, sitting around tables, laying around a dance floor. That an escape from the fortress entailed walking out without once encountering another living soul. You find this believable? Are you an idiot?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about and I did not know about any of this," Janisa De'Loreal said.

Sophia Loren continued grilling her: "Did it ever cross your mind that the bag of human skin and a corpse-face slathered with makeup might have been the one who bore off the stud's limp frame?"

"But Ed is right there, or who do you mean by stud?" intoned Janisa De'Loreal.

"Is that man alright?" Bella Black wondered. The cadaver had lost all water and all fat. No longer even was there a stomach shelf. The eyelids had shriveled until they would never be able squint again.

Janisa De'Loreal's body laughed as the last rivulets of fat streamed off. The whole scene smelled of rotten eggs, burnt flesh, Listerine, and mimosas. A dark figure remained behind, invisible in that you could never look straight at it.

"You know," Bella Black said, realizing that previous statements were directed at her, "I always thought you were just really old and corpulent."

"You were right there."

Janisa De'Loreal laughed and whispered to Ed.

"Not the fat part, you dastard!" the black figure stated, whose name was a mystery now because it was not really Sophia Loren probably. "I am older than you know. Older than your beau, older than his parents and their parents."

"What the fucking shit?" Bella awed.

"Do you know who I am?" it said.

"No I need more hints" she said.

The figure held up four blades made of pure light.

"Four words," Janisa shouted.

It became the essence of flow, the purest blue. A wind howled and the image of a storm fell over their eyes. They saw before them the first animal ever to walk on land as it made its first steps, they saw Pearl Harbor, they felt the terror of small-eyed pilots in their final moments, the uncertainty and the conviction; they felt a breeze over passive blue water; they heard the sound of seagulls.

"Stop!" said Ed, "those are California seagull noises. Is the first word 'Pacific'?"

The black shape became the essence of affirmation.

"The second word is the answer to a riddle: What has invisible roots, but doesn't grow fruits: up, up it goes, and yet never grows?"

"I think I've heard this one, guys," said teamwork, "it's 'Mountain.'"

"Correct. Now, another riddle: This thing, all things eats: birds, trees, flour, teets; chews iron and other stuff; grinds hard bones to snuff; slays queens with his wicked looks, and is the subject of many books."

"We might need a lot of time for this one," said Ed.

"How did you solve it?!"

"Oh yes, time," said realization, and curiosity piped up: "What's the last word?"

"What have I got in my pocket?"

"You don't even have one of those!"

"Well, does that matter? What's the answer?"

"What difference does it make what you have in a pocket that doesn't exist? Hey, wait! DIFFERENCE! That's it! It's the only thing that makes sense," the voice.

"Gosh darn it," the dark figure said, pulling the abstract Form of subtraction from somewhere within it.

It dawned on Janisa De'Loreal: they had solved the mystery. "You're... the Pacific-Mountain Time Difference?"

The detached jaw of Sophia Loren's face smiled.

**To be continued...**


End file.
